


Behind Bars

by cannedpeaches



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: F/M, Smut, i have no actual idea how prison works, so sorry for any straight-up mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannedpeaches/pseuds/cannedpeaches
Summary: Tess might be serving a six-month sentence, but that doesn't mean she can't have fun.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Again, sorry for any prison-related factual mistakes!
> 
> This idea came from a Tumblr user who threw out the idea of a prison AU, where Tess is a prisoner and Joel is the warden. And because my brain is always in the gutter, this is what happened. All sex in here is consensual, which I think is important to mention with a prison AU.

They could both get into so much trouble for this.

Tess knew this, at the back of her mind: Like six months behind bars wasn’t enough. She couldn’t even _begin_ to fathom how much more would get tacked on for what she was doing right now.

To say nothing of what would happen to _him_.

But even the warnings of the logical part of her mind weren’t going to stop her now.

Not with his breath hot in her ear, his still-clothed erection pressed against the bare skin of her ass; he’d pulled her standard-issue, orange prison pants down just moments before. He grabbed her hips and ground into her fiercely, panting, even as she pushed back against him.

If she wanted to, she could have just reached around and grabbed his gun, tried to make a run for it.

She could have. If she’d wanted to.

 

Her sentence was almost insulting. Six months for being an accomplice to selling illicit substances. An _accomplice_ , when the whole thing had been her idea. In the end, though, she knew it didn’t matter: She’d found the better lawyer, and although prison was prison, it was Malick who was doing five years and not her. She could live with that.

She could live with quickly rising to the top of the pecking order in her medium-security prison. She could live with the ugly uniforms (they were itchy, but they were more like pajamas than anything else). She could live with the shitty food.

What she couldn’t live with, however, was the guard assigned to her cell block during night shifts.

For the women who’d been in lockup longer than Tess, Miller was known for being a hardass. He broke up fights with relish, using his powerful arms to pull women off each other, and he didn’t hesitate to break out the baton when it was warranted. At curfew, he banged on the bars of each cell, a sharp, ringing warning that it was time for lights out. And he never slept, it seemed like. The prisoners had long given up trying to get any kind of shit past him.

“What the fuck is that guy’s problem?” Tess asked her cell neighbor one day. They were eating watery oatmeal in the mess hall.

“Hell if we know,” Marlene muttered. “He’s been like this since he was hired, sounds like.”

Tess often watched him out of the corner of her eye, just to see if his manner ever changed, ever got less stoic, less closed-off.

She found out, one night at curfew, that it did.

Miller was making his way down the block: “Lights out, five minutes!” But instead of banging on Tess’s bars, she stopped in front of her cell and crossed his arms. Tess was sitting on her hard cot, staring at the wall opposite. She turned her head and regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

“Can I help you?” she said.

"You got some kind of problem with me, prisoner?” he growled.

Tess shrugged, one corner of her mouth curling up. “Not more so than the other ladies, I’d say.”

Miller‘s expression darkened even further, which Tess hadn’t thought was possible. “I’m keepin’ an eye on you, Callahan.”

Tess snorted but didn’t reply.

Keeping an eye on her. Well, she’d give him an eyeful, then.

 

One of the first things you lost in prison, it seemed, was privacy. Cells were open to the corridor through the bars, the showers had no curtains so you couldn’t strangle a bitch in a fight, and everyone knew which cellmates also happened to be fucking.

Tess had a cell to herself, and she’d never been more grateful for it than the night Miller first confronted her.

She knew his schedule: Every half hour, he’d walk past her cell while making his rounds. The half hour that he was elsewhere was usually the period of time in which she’d take care of business, if she was so inclined that evening -- a girl had to address her needs somehow, prison or no -- but tonight was different.

Five minutes before he was set to be outside her cell, she propped herself up in her cot, having her bars, and rucked her shirt up past her breasts, slowly drawing her fingers over the thin skin, teasing her nipples into tight peaks before rolling the buds between her fingers and tugging on them. She arched into her own hand, biting back a gasp and trailing one hand down to the waistband of her pants. As she pushed the cloth past her hips, she heard the heavy tread of booted footsteps making its way down her corridor.

Her pulse quickened, adding an extra gush of wetness to the slick already between her legs as she delicately danced her fingers over her inner thighs, sucking in a light gasp as she did so. She drew two fingers over her slit, before drawing them up to circle her clit. Finally, she let herself moan aloud.

The footsteps paused, then hurried down the corridor. Her head fell back against the cell wall as she rubbed tight circles over her clit, breathing harshly, flames licking up her nerves and causing her limbs to shudder.

She lazily cracked her eyes open. On the other side of her bars, a familiar, hulking shadow stood, suspiciously still, face shrouded in shadow. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips before she cried out softly, pressing desperate fingers into her skin as she reached her climax. As she watched, the shadow’s hand moved -- palming over the crotch of his pants, letting out a low grunt. It was enough to send Tess tumbling over the edge, a sharp cry on her lips.

She panted hard, wrapping a tongue around her dirty fingers, tasting herself. She didn’t stop looking at the shadow until he turned away, continuing down the corridor.

 

“Lights out, five minutes!”

The next evening, Tess sat in her cell, a novel popped open in her hand. She wasn’t usually one to go for books with Fabio on the cover, but she did understand the need for a decent prop -- and besides, the purple prose, however silly, was good fodder for the imagination. By the time Miller made it to her cell, she could feel the flush rising in her chest and face.

Again, he paused in front of her cell. Without looking up from her book, Tess greeted him: “Officer.”

Miller grunted, but said nothing more. After a few moments, Tess finally looked up.

“Need directions?” she purred.

Miller snorted. “Not from you.”

Tess ran her thumb over her lower lip and grinned. “Back for an encore, then?” Her eyes roved over his muscled arms and chest, evident even with his uniform on.

He shifted on his feet, frowning. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Hmph,” Miller said, before continuing on.

That night, he palmed himself roughly through his pants as Tess pumped two fingers into her dripping pussy, crooking them upward and pressing hard as she thumbed her clit, crying out loudly enough to wake the entire block when she came, squirting, into her own hand. As she did, she thought she might have seen him shudder and fall against the bars. He watched her lick her hand clean.

 

The next day, Tess was waiting for him, leaning up against her bars and inspecting her cuticles.

As she approached, she nodded at him. “Officer,” she said.

Miller remained expressionless. But when she looked down, she saw a flash of silver at his pocket: keys.

She closed her eyes and shivered. Oh, she was in trouble now.

 

She sat on her cot, waiting for him, the anticipation making her pulse pound in her ears, in her cunt. She pressed her thighs together, feeling the way her skin slicked against itself, and almost moaned. He made three passes of her cell before he entered, and in that time, she shook with restraint: All she wanted to do was touch herself.

On the fourth pass, well into the night, he silently slipped the key into her door and opened it. Tess was breathing hard, watching him move toward her. When he finally stood before her, she pressed her face to his crotch, felt his cock growing hard against her lips, gave it a gentle nibble through the layers of fabric as he braced his hands on her shoulders from the sudden sensation. He pulled her up, then pressed a fierce kiss to her lips, all teeth and tongue and pain that made her whimper into his mouth.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he murmured against her bruised lips. His voice was like gravel. “I’ll show you what dirty sluts like you get.”

He took her by the arm and yanked her over to the one empty wall of her cell, pushing her against it with a force that jarred her bones. She ground her teeth together as her cheek hit the cold, cement-block wall.

He drew a hand down her back, tracing over the curve of her ass before grabbing a handful of it and squeezing, hard. He leaned in close again, his beard tickling the skin just behind her ear:

“You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” When she didn’t answer, he gave her ass another painful squeeze. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she gasped, the sound barely audible.

He snaked his hands under her shirt, rough palms dancing over the dip of her spine before roaming over her stomach and up to her breasts. She arched into his large hands. “You want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she almost moaned.

He buried his face in her neck before biting down on it, making her shake with a suppressed cry. Then he was moving his hands over her pants, pushing them down past her ass and then grinding his still-clothed cock into her cleft. He put a hand over her mouth as she sighed, pushing back hard against him, feeling him twitch against his bare skin.

“Please,” she whined, muffled against his hand, but he seemed to understand. As he moved away from her, she heard a some rustling and a zipper, before he let out a satisfied groan and slapped his hard cock against her ass, smearing it with his precum.

“You want it?” he muttered in her ear. She nodded furiously as he rubbed his shaft between her legs, his movements stuttering as he soaked his erection in her wetness. “You sure?”

“Please,” she moaned against his hand.

Without another word, he lined the head up with her entrance, and shoved himself home. She bit down on his fingers hard as he did, making him hiss even as he began to move in her. She was too fucking tight; she wouldn’t be able to walk right tomorrow if she tried.

He hammered her, the head of his cock ramming her gspot with every thrust as he reached around with his free hand and rubbed her clit fast and brutal. She clamped down on him as her release approached, making him feel even larger inside of her, stretching her to the brim. His breaths were hot and harsh in her ear.

“Say my name.”

“Miller --”

“Joel,” he corrected.

She reached around and grabbed the back of his neck, wrenched herself free from his hand as she put her lips to his ear. “Joel,” she moaned, as sweet a note as any.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped. “Cum on my cock, you dirty slut.”

It was all she needed. She bit down on his neck as her orgasm rolled through her, wave after wave of pleasure that wracked her body, made her weak at the knees. He caught her around her stomach, held her upright as she came, her whole body singing with electricity. As her climax subsided, she felt him twitch inside of her: “Fuck,” he gasped as he came, filing her.

They fell against the wall, leaning there, catching their breaths, before he pulled out and pulled his pants back up. She turned to look at him, watching as he tucked his still-hard dick back in and zipped up.

“Same time tomorrow?” she joked.

Joel didn’t laugh, only traced her lips with his filthy fingers. She flicked her tongue over them, tasting herself.

“You know my schedule,” was all he said before he left.


End file.
